IF I said that Jonathan Lethem's new novel was a homage of sorts to bands such as Sonic Youth, Pixies and Galaxie 500, you'd know what I was talking about, right? It's the iconic figure of the female bassist: in those groups, Kim Gordon, Kim Deal and Naomi Yang; the sexy, sassy member with the least to do on stage and the most allure.

That's unfair: the bass player is more important than this, as Lethem notes: "the pivot between drummer and singer, the only player to absorb everyone's reactions". In Yo u Don't Love Me Yet, he gives us the story of Lucinda, a female bassist, and her band, over a few hot LA weeks.

The quartet are happy to kick around the rehearsal room until two chance events propel them towards cult success. The first is the offer of a gig at an art show, albeit one at which they must play inaudibly. The second is the explosion into Lucinda's life of a new lover.

Lucinda and Carl meet when she answers his calls on a phonebased installation in a friend's art gallery. He's deeply unfashionable, "beautiful in a puffy, slightly decrepit way", and makes a good living from writing bumper-sticker slogans: "All Thinking is Wishful", or "Pour Love on the Broken Places". His every utterance is so loaded with ambiguous meaning that Lucinda finds she can convert them practically unedited into song lyrics. The band is catalysed by this miraculous new input, and when their unplugged gig turns suddenly plugged, they are ready to become the toast of Sunset Boulevard.

Lethem is best known for Motherless Brooklyn and The Fortress of Solitude, big, meaty novels set in his native New York.

This is frothy by comparison, but as smart, sunny and hip as its LA setting. It would make a fine indie film, with its vigorously off-key love affair, and its cute sub-plot featuring a depressed kangaroo kidnapped from the zoo.

What really marks it out, though, is its response to pop music, as experienced by both band and audience: the building of a set list, the unfolding dynamic of a gig, the impact of a song: "the one that causes everyone, during its third chorus or through the howl of cheers that erupt in its wake, to lean into someone's ear and bark through cupped hands, 'These guys are good!' or 'I love this song!'" This guy is good. I love this book.